


A paired-assignment partner by any other name would smell as sweet

by ThebanSacredBand



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThebanSacredBand/pseuds/ThebanSacredBand
Summary: Tybalt meets Benvolio for the second time, the first time either of them remember, at university in America.
Relationships: Benvolio Montague & Tybalt, Benvolio Montague/Tybalt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	A paired-assignment partner by any other name would smell as sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megvad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megvad/gifts).



> General disclaimer that I know very little about the American university system  
> Dialogue in italics is Italian, without italics is English - unless its emphasised in which case its the opposite ? (It makes sense in my head - if it actually doesn't make sense please let me know and I can change it!!)

Tybalt meets Benvolio for the first time at nursery. In fact, they’re inseparable. They play together in the sandpit, and they refuse to let go of each-other’s hands when they eat lunch. Tybalt goes home and tells his parents that _“me and Benvolio are going to get married!”_ and the adults all coo over him.

They all coo over him except his uncle, mama’s sister’s husband, who looks down at him with a frown. _“Who’s Benvolio, boy?”_

Tybalt grins up at him. _“He’s my best friend.”_

_“Benvolio_ Montague _?”_ says his uncle.

Tybalt just shrugs, and gets distracted by his toys in the corner. He doesn’t pay attention to the adults as they talk about boring adult things in quiet angry voices.

The next day, Tybalt gets a nanny. He doesn’t go back to the nursery.

He doesn’t go to school, either. His mama says he’s lucky that his uncle is willing to pay for the best tutors that anyone could ask for.

His uncle says that the local private school is tainted by the presence of Montagues.

There’s an accident, a terrible, horrible accident, and he collapses in his aunt’s arms and _weeps_.

His uncle says that boys don’t cry. His uncle says that he will take him in, will look after him like his own, as long as he swears to be an enemy to all Montagues for as long as he lives.

He agrees, of course he does. The Montagues, after all, are the scum of the earth.

(He doesn’t know any different.)

(He doesn’t have any other choice.)

He spends most of his time in his uncle’s house, studying. He wants to prove to his uncle that he was a worthwhile investment. He’s going to go to university in America, he’s going to get a business degree, and inherit the company.

It should be Juliet’s, really, but Juliet has always said that she wants to be a nurse, and she has Tybalt wrapped around her little finger, really. She always has.

She’s the only person even _close_ to his age he knows, after all.

Sometimes he sees them when he ventures out of the house. They hang around the fountain in the piazza, shouting at each-other. The Montagues and their friend.

He glares at them as he passes, and they sneer back, as though _he_ was the one unnecessarily taking up space, being a public nuisance.

He hates them. He hates _all_ of them.

It’s fine. He’s going to university in America. He’ll come back better-educated and better-travelled and _better_ than they could ever be.

And he’ll almost certainly never have to see them again.

Tybalt meets Benvolio for the second time, the first time either of them remember, at university in America.

He’d been sat near the back, but still paying attention. This wasn’t a business class, no, just something else he needed for credit, but he still needed to do well, to make his uncle proud.

(And, well, if it’s a class that he finds more interesting than any of his business courses, that’s just a bonus that his no-one needs to know about)

But he was paying attention to the professor, not to who else was in class. And why would he? None of the people he had got to know so far were in this class. There was no chance of him running in to anyone unexpected.

And then the lecturer had put the partners for the paired assignment on the screen.

And Tybalt’s brain had screeched to a halt.

Benvolio. Montague.

Surely. Surely the name wasn’t common enough for there to be another. But surely there was no way that one of the damned _Montagues_ was somehow _here_.

And then their eyes met across the room.

_Madre di Dio_.

Tybalt recognises him instantly, of course he does. He’s been trained since as long as he can remember to know his enemy. Benvolio is the elder of the Montague cousins, tall and skinny with dark hair and dark eyes and crooked smile before he notices Tybalt, when it always turns into a grimace.

It doesn’t change this time. Instead, he gives a little wave.

Tybalt can feel _rage_ bubbling up inside him.

A Montague! A Montague can’t be trusted, that’s what his uncle always said. He’ll probably throw the assignment on purpose, just to watch Tybalt suffer.

Tybalt is _not_ going to let that happen. He’ll go to the professor, ask her if he can swap partners.

The class finishes early, to give them time to meet the person they are working with, and exchange contact details. Tybalt all but runs down the stairs to the front, ready to do _anything_ the professor wants if only she’ll let him swap partners.

Someone steps in front of him.

_Benvolio_ steps in front of him.

The Montague better _get out of his way_.

He doesn’t.

Instead he says “I guess we are partners?” in English. _English_.

_“Hopefully not for much longer,”_ Tybalt snaps back in their mother tongue, because why waste the time translating and faltering in such an ugly language when he will be understood anyway. He pushes Benvolio out of the way with his shoulder and continues down to the front.

_“She specifically said that we can’t swap who we’re working with.”_ Benvolio says, following him down the stairs. Why is he _following_ him, why can’t he just _leave_? They’re enemies, after all. _“What are you going to do? Tell her that we can’t be partners because our uncles got in a fight thirty years ago?”_

Tybalt just scowls, not even looking at his smug, punchable face.

Benvolio laughs, he _laughs_. Tybalt’s hands clench into fists without his permission.

_“Yes well, let me know how_ that _goes for you. I’ll wait for you outside._ Ciao!”

_Dio_ , Tybalt can’t wait until he gets a new partner and never even has to _look_ at him again.

Benvolio is leaning against a wall outside the lecture hall, not far from the door, and he falls into step with Tybalt when he storms past, because of course he does.

_“Guessing it didn’t go well, then?”_ He asks, and Tybalt can hear the smug expression on his face without turning to look at him. He continues down the corridor, determined to ignore the Montague until he goes away.

He doesn’t go away.

Instead, he runs _in front_ of Tybalt, and cuts him off. When Tybalt tries to swerve around him, he just walks backwards, keeping pace. He has a wide smile plastered on his face, and he sticks his hand out like every obnoxious American has attempted to greet Tybalt since he arrived.

“Hi! I’m Ben, it’s nice to meet you.”

That’s enough to bring Tybalt to a complete stop. _Ben_? It’s such a horrible shortening of his name, so very _inglese_. It doesn’t fit at all with the stress of his name. Its unbelievably ugly.

He shakes his head. The affront to Italian can wait. He has to deal with the idiot standing in front of him first.

_“What the fuck is_ wrong _with you!”_

Tybalt has heard many things about the Montagues. But the one thing that was always thrown in Benvolio’s direction was that he was a pacifist. Weak.

It doesn’t feel that way when the man in question backs him into a wall, fists clenched in the front of Tybalt’s jacket, fire in his eyes.

_“What is_ wrong with me _, is that I_ need _to pass this class so I don’t lose my scholarship, and I will_ not _fail it just because you’re a spiteful asshole who feels the need to_ ruin _everything for me_ _just so you can keep up some stupid feud. We’re not in Verona now, and this is so much more important to me than whatever my uncle thinks._

_“So how about we pretend we don’t know each-other, do the god-damned assignment, and then_ never _talk to each-other again. Alright.”_

Tybalt must have been missing Italy more than he thought, because hearing his mother tongue again, even in such an angry tone, feels like honey flowing through him. Benvolio’s face is so close to Tybalt’s. He can see gold flecks in his deep brown eyes. Benvolio has faint freckles across the bridge of his nose from the summer spend on the fountain in the piazza with his friends. Tybalt has forgotten how to think. He’s forgotten how to _breathe_.

Suddenly, Benvolio takes a step back. “Alright?” he asks, in English again, his voice softer, now, but Tybalt misses the music of Italian.

It takes Tybalt far too long to work out what the question is in reference to.

Eventually, he gets it. He nods. Yes. That sounded like a good plan.

“Sì. Yes, that’s alright.” He holds out his hand like Benvolio had earlier, and Benvolio grips it and shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you, ah, Ben. I’m... Ty?”

His voice is contorted. It’s painful, saying his own name like that.

(Saying Benvolio’s name like that.)

Benvolio _laughs_ , then, and Tybalt doesn’t know what at, but it _hurts_.

(What on earth is _wrong_ with him, this is a _Montague_ , his _enemy._ )

He obviously doens’t keep the expression from his face, because the laughter stops, and Benvolio looks almost kind. Soft and sympathetic.

“No, no. Don’t worry. Let’s still be Benvolio and Tybalt. Just... let’s pretend the feud doesn’t exist until we’ve submitted the project, and then we can go back to hating each-other.”

Benvolio smiles at him, and it somehow warms Tybalt up, like stepping into a sunbeam. He can’t help but smile back

“Yes. I can do that”

The trouble is, from the feeling brewing somewhere in his chest, Tybalt isn’t sure that he’ll be able to go back to _hating_ Benvolio.

Well, that’s a problem for another day. They have an assignment to complete, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide megvad! Hope you enjoyed :) I know from your prompt that you have very clear ideas of how you like the characters to be, but I hope I haven't ruined them too much for you. <3


End file.
